


Constellations

by Claranon



Series: The Princess and the Knight [2]
Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest XI
Genre: Basically a romance novel now, F/M, If you want a picture of this fic series's future imagine a boot stamping on a knightly face forever, The official motto of this ship is Make Hendrik Suffer™, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 18:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17105657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Claranon/pseuds/Claranon
Summary: Sir Hendrik of Heliodor has difficulties navigating the new status quo, and Princess Jade is decidedlynothelping.





	Constellations

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> This ship has stolen my life in the worst way. Please send help.

Sir Hendrik climbed the steps to Heliodor Castle’s upstairs hall, grateful for any small respite from the festivities below. The guards posted outside the royal bedchambers saluted smartly as he approached and he nodded in return. All appeared to be in order; only the best of the guard corps were given such prestigious assignments, but it was always worth continued appraisal.

The knight turned to the guard standing by Princess Jade’s door. “Has Her Highness not made an appearance as yet?” he asked.

“No, sir,” the guard said, still saluting. Then he hesitated. “They seem to be having some...difficulties,” he added.

“Difficulties?” Hendrik frowned.

“Yes, sir. I asked Princess Jade if she needed any help but she told me everything was fine.” The guard hesitated again. “I think there are issues with—with her wardrobe.”

“Hm,” Hendrik grunted. He turned to the door and rapped sharply. While he waited he adjusted his collar for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. He had requested only the simplest of suitable attire for tonight’s gala, so how the tailor had settled on a cravat of such monstrously ruffled proportions was quite beyond his—

“Yes?” came the princess’s voice from within. This was followed almost immediately by what sounded like a muffled curse. Hendrik’s frown deepened and he automatically checked that his sword hilt was unencumbered by his jacket.

“It is Sir Hendrik, Your Highness,” he replied. “Your father bid me inquire as to your expected arrival at the ball.”

“I’m almost—” Another curse, followed by a suspicious thump.

Hendrik exchanged glances with the guard and knocked again. “Princess?”

“Oh, just come in, Hendrik,” she called. The knight squared his shoulders and opened the door, taking care to firmly shut it behind him as he entered.

There had been few reasons over the years for Hendrik to visit what had once been the queen’s chambers, now those of the princess. Had he been at leisure to examine his surroundings, he might have noted the grand four-poster bed, the richly embellished walls, and the lush purple upholstery Queen Belle had favoured.

But Sir Hendrik, as it happened, was _not_ at leisure, for his attention was immediately arrested by the sight of Princess Jade currently being sewn up in the corseted bodice of her gown.

Time stood still for one eternal, confounding moment as Hendrik’s rattled mind fell back on his training and assessed the situation: the princess, hunched over in front of a large standing mirror in the middle of the chamber; one maid at attendance, holding a volume of incomprehensible fabric in her arms; a second maid pulling hard on the strings of the corset, her knee braced against the princess’s back.

Reality caught up with Hendrik all at once and he spun around to face the door. “A thousand apologies, Princess,” he stammered, one hand already on the doorknob. He squeezed it reflexively; better to vacate the room directly as honour demanded, or stand firm to prevent any passersby from observing the princess in a state of dishabille? The agony of indecision overwhelmed him.

“Hendrik, I’m fairly sure I’m more clothed right now than the bunny girls were last time we went to the Casino,” Princess Jade’s voice came from behind him—strained, but also amused.

“I did not expect—I merely wished to—” Hendrik took a deep breath and mentally cuffed himself. Was he a knight of Heliodor or some flighty courtier? “I will return at a later time, Princess,” he declared, decision made. He was about to turn the doorknob when the princess spoke again.

“Don’t bother, we’re just about done.” There was a rustle of fabric and the click of heels on the floor. The princess then said, apparently addressing her maid, “I don’t think it’s getting any tighter unless we break a rib. Help me tie up the back and then you can go.”

Hendrik waited another interminable minute while they finished, still torn about whether the correct course of action would not be to decamp immediately from the room—ideally out to the stables. Obsidian had been favouring his left hoof earlier in the day, and was it not a knight’s duty to attend to the care of his steed?

The princess once again interrupted his methodical—not at all desperate; he would have outright denied ‘desperate'—planning: “You can turn around, Hendrik.”

For a wild moment he considered affecting sudden hearing loss and fleeing the room after all. But as always, duty to the royal house of Heliodor reasserted itself; with the trepidation of a soldier riding into battle against overwhelming odds, the knight took another deep breath, steeled himself, and obeyed his future queen.

Princess Jade, as a result of her long years away from noble life, showed a marked preference for plain, practical clothing, even around the castle. She had little use for baubles and often accented her formal attire with flowers instead, to the despair of local jewellers. Most significantly, given the blessings that nature and her beautiful mother’s heritage had bestowed upon her, she typically chose to conceal those assets that had so threatened to derail Hendrik’s thoughts in recent months; not out of any particular sense of modesty, he suspected, but to avoid the kind of attention she’d likely had to fight off since adolescence.

It was to Hendrik’s very ill luck that the princess had chosen tonight to eschew every last one of these customs. To say that the result took his breath away would be inappropriately sentimental; to describe it rather as the equivalent of a boot thrust to the stomach would be far more accurate.

The gown was not in the style of Heliodorian fashion—that much Hendrik knew, though he paid little attention to such matters. It flowed down at the waist without the usual bustle and stopped right above the straps of her shoes. The fabric was light and airy with a sheen that caught in the firelight, and its green hue was not that of her namesake, but a darker emerald that offered perfect complement to her complexion. A heavily bejewelled necklace adorned her throat and her mother’s tiara was nestled in her hair amid an elaborately braided structure he could not begin to make sense of.

But the part that immediately caught and held his attention—the part that these months of high-necked, utilitarian garb had kept hidden—the part that had him instantly formulating a plan to journey to Mount Pang Lai for extensive ascetic training, damn his vows—

“What do you think?” the princess asked, holding out her arms and performing a little spin. The effect this movement had on those aspects currently provoking Hendrik’s crisis of duty was immediate and profound. He was not a spiritual man by nature, but a quick prayer to Yggdrasil seemed not altogether imprudent at the moment. She spoke on, seemingly oblivious to his distraction.

“I saw something like it last time we were in Puerto Valor and made a few sketches for the dressmaker,” she said, plucking at a stray ribbon on her glove. “I had her remove most of the layers for ease of movement, but I may have made a mistake with the corset. What do you think the odds are the castle will be attacked at some point this evening?” The princess looked up at him expectantly, with no small amount of mischief in her eyes.

Hendrik realized he was gaping; he realized this, but somehow felt powerless to stop it. “I...you...I beg your pardon, Your Highness?” he stuttered out intelligently.

“I could always bring my claws with me, I suppose,” she mused, ignoring his stammering. She gave her skirt an experimental swish. “I’m not sure my martial arts training would help much with this many petticoats.”

It suddenly cut through Hendrik’s mental fog that his future liege was soliciting military advice from him—this had the effect of jolting him back into some semblance of rational thought. “It has been some years since the last mishap at a ball, Princess,” he responded seriously. “Regardless, I will have my troops at the ready—and I myself, of course, will stand at constant attention throughout.” The maids tittered at that and he frowned, self-consciously wondering why.

The princess turned to them. “We’re all done here, so go ahead and enjoy the party. I won’t need you again tonight.” The young women popped quick curtseys and scurried out of the room, though not before giving two final, arch glances at the knight. The door clicked shut and Hendrik was then left alone with his princess.

“Have you any specific concerns as to your safety, Your Highness?” he continued their discussion, eager to allay her disquiet. “If need be, I can double the guards on duty—”

“I was just joking, Hendrik,” she interrupted, amusement in her voice. Hendrik felt a momentary foolishness; he pressed his lips tightly together and nodded, but nevertheless resolved to speak to the captain of the guard at the first opportunity.

The princess walked over to her dressing table and sat down on the stool. “You said my father wanted me?” she asked as she started digging through the drawers looking for something.

“Yes, Princess. He wishes to make some introductions, I believe.”

“Wonderful,” she grumbled, shooting him a dark look over her shoulder. “More eldest sons from prominent families, I’m sure.” She took a pair of earrings out of the drawer; he recognized them as having once belonged to the queen.

“Your father wants only for your happiness, Princess,” Hendrik replied mildly. “He is keenly aware that if something were to happen to him—”

“—then I could take care of myself very well, as I have the past sixteen years,” she finished, leaning toward her reflection in the mirror as she fastened one earring. “Please don’t tell me you’re encouraging this, Hendrik.”

“I...No, Your Highness,” he admitted. “But he is my king, and it is not my place to say differently.”

“I suppose not,” she agreed. “It _is_ a lot to ask of a sworn knight of Heliodor.” That teasing tone of hers, always throwing him off-balance. “I’ll take care of it,” she continued before he could reply. “My father just needs to understand that my decisions are my own, whatever— _whoever_ —I may choose someday.”

Her eyes met his in the mirror and his mouth went strangely dry.

The princess finished with her jewellery and rose from the vanity. There was no sign of her previous mischief as she turned to him again, an assessing look on her face. The muted sounds of the gala downstairs mingled with the pop and crackle of the fireplace. An uneasiness overtook Hendrik—a feeling not unlike waiting for an ambush he only suspected lay ahead.

He was suddenly struck by the impropriety of the scene: a young, unmarried princess alone with an older man in her bedchamber. This was precisely the kind of situation his years of excruciating protocol training had taught him to avoid; for all he knew, the maids were spreading the gossip that very moment. Yet he felt rooted to the spot when the princess took a step closer to him, then another.

“You never told me what you thought of my dress, Hendrik,” she said in a low voice that set his heart to racing. The angle he was now forced to view her from led his gaze dangerously close to those aspects of her appearance he was desperately trying to avoid. He felt helplessly in over his head, even as she waited for his answer.

“You are…” _too exposed; too well-endowed; too brazen by half; too skilled at driving me to distraction; too oblivious to what you compel me to do at night, or perhaps not, perhaps you know very well how I think of you every single time I_ —

“You are a vision, Princess,” he said at last, voice slightly hoarse. Almost to his surprise, he found that he meant this one most of all.

Princess Jade smiled up at him then, an inscrutable, secret thing—as if she could pluck out his very thoughts at a moment if only she wished it. Despite his alarm, the sight of that smile, still such a rare occurrence since her return, touched him in some deep, profound place.

Perhaps it was that which broke the spell. Hendrik cleared his throat and then coughed for good measure, stepping back with a reluctance he refused to give consideration to. He turned toward the sideboard and rested one hand upon it, gloved fingers curled up tightly. “Are your preparations complete now, Your Highness?” he asked in a restrained voice. King, princess, country—duty above all things, and let nothing stand in its way.

Heaven have mercy on him, the princess accepted this silent offer of a truce. After a few more beats, Hendrik heard her step away as well, and he let out a breath he had not known he was holding. “Almost,” she said from behind him, heels clicking back over to her standing mirror.

“You’re looking quite dashing tonight yourself,” she added after a moment. “I’m almost surprised you’re not wearing your armour.”

“I customarily do,” he admitted, awash with the relief of a man just saved from drowning. “In the past it has forestalled many a request to dance.”

“Still not a big fan of balls, Henny-Wenny?” she teased, once more with an air of camaraderie instead of the dark bewitchment from moments before. “I seem to recall your hiding away in the corner most evenings, hoping no one would notice you there.”

The corners of his lips lifted and he turned toward her again to share in her amusement. She was giving herself a last look in the mirror, adjusting some trinket or another. “It was never my domain, Princess,” he replied, shaking his head. “Jasper was always the one who—”

Hendrik broke off; a feeling not unlike a dash of cold water overtook him, more effective than anything yet for banishing the lingering effects of the princess’s spell.

She had stilled before him, and he found that he could not meet her gaze. The knight deliberately turned to the door and cleared his throat. “The King has long been awaiting your arrival, Your Highness,” he said impassively. “We must not keep him.”

Princess Jade silently came up next to him and slipped her hand through his offered arm. Hendrik opened the door and escorted her into the hallway, acknowledging the guards’ salutes with another nod. At the edge of the grand staircase, looking over the lively party in the Great Hall below, the princess paused and seemed to steel herself. Hendrik looked down inquiringly and she waited a beat before returning his gaze.

“Well,” she said with the ghost of a smile on her face, “let’s make an entrance, shall we?”

 

* * *

 

Hendrik did not weave through the crowd of partygoers so much as impel a path to open up through sheer force of mass. Heliodorian nobility and foreign guests alike dodged out of his way as they saw him coming; this was a particularly advantageous effect of his size, on the battlefield and off.

King Carnelian was chatting with a grand duke as Hendrik returned to the royal table at the side of the room. He touched his fist to his chest in a slight bow. “Sire, I spoke to the steward—he will insure that the kitchens bring up more wine from the cellar.”

“Excellent,” the king nodded. “Goodness knows it has sat there long enough. Come, Hendrik, rest awhile—I have kept you far too busy tonight.”

“It is never a hindrance, sire,” Hendrik said, bowing again, but he allowed the king to wave him to his customary place at his right. The grand duke excused himself and left the knight and his liege alone.

The party was in full swing, showing no signs of slowing down. Musicians played energetically from the balcony and sprightly dancers covered the floor of the hall. Hendrik kept an eye on them as he stood, watching for the flash of emerald he saw every now and then. Princess Jade had scarcely spent a moment off the dance floor since the herald had announced her arrival some hours before. The gala was ostensibly in honour of the newly-signed Dundrasilian trade agreement, but Hendrik suspected that the king sought any excuse for a celebration these days after so many years of unknowing austerity.

“Ah, it is good to see the people enjoying such festivities,” King Carnelian said, as if reading Hendrik’s thoughts. “My dear Belle so loved to plan events like this—and with such style! There has not been her equal since, I fear.”

“The queen’s presence is greatly missed, Your Majesty,” Hendrik replied.

“Too true, too true,” the king said absently. He seemed to be watching the dancers for the same telltale emerald that his knight was. “Perhaps Jade will come into it someday, but for now…” The king fell silent and the two spent some minutes observing the dance.

“Hendrik,” King Carnelian said then, “how does my daughter get on these days? You were always close, and I suspect she would not want to burden her father with her difficulties.”

Hendrik paused, gathering his thoughts before answering. “She has had her adjustments, sire,” he responded diplomatically. “Castle life is rather too sedentary for her tastes at times.”

“Ho ho! To be sure,” the king laughed. “Has she tried to sneak off on one of your bandit expeditions again?”

Hendrik found himself, not for the first time since Princess Jade’s return, at war with where to rest his loyalties. To admit to the king that the princess had finagled her way into becoming an unofficial member of his troop was betraying her confidence; but to lie to the man to whom he owed his life was equally unthinkable. “Her Highness has...discovered several creative ways to keep herself active, Your Majesty,” he managed finally. “Be assured that nothing gives her greater pleasure than to be home with you once more.”

“Good. I am glad to hear it.” King Carnelian accepted this without further questions and Hendrik breathed a silent sigh of relief.

The princess came into full view then, waltzing with a young man Hendrik recognized as part of his officer corps. The king’s attention was caught by the sight.

“Who is that, Hendrik? One of yours, is he not?”

“Yes, sire. The second son of the Feldspar family. A capable enough soldier, although his dedication to the training field leaves much to be desired.” Hendrik had long accepted the political necessity of promoting Heliodorian nobility within the army, but it still grated on him to see talent wasted through highborn apathy.

“Well, he certainly seems to have diverted that time to better use dancing,” the king chuckled. “They _do_ seem to be enjoying themselves. Do you suppose…”

“Och, leave the poor lass alone,” came a familiar voice from behind them. “Hard enough adjusting to being royalty again without ye breathing down her neck about marriage.”

“Robert,” King Carnelian greeted his friend as the former king sprawled into the chair beside him. “Have you finally run out of noble daughters to dance with?”

“Not by half, Carnelian, not by half—but these auld bones need a rest every now and then.” Lord Robert flagged down a passing wine server and snatched a cup off her tray. “You havnae happened to see my grandson lately, have ye?”

“The Luminary was in the banquet hall when I passed through some minutes ago, my Lord,” Hendrik spoke up.

“Thanks, Hendrik,” Lord Robert nodded at him. “I’ll make my way over there as soon as this wine puts a right spring back in my step. Say, Carnelian, did ye see the wording on that new proclamation the Sultan put out?”

The king and his old friend were quickly absorbed in a spirited political discussion and Hendrik felt his attention wandering. Earlier in the evening he had posted a few extra guards as a precaution, and all was well on the perimeter at last report. The princess _had_ only been teasing him, but the knight had never yet been failed by over-preparation.

Hendrik bowed to King Carnelian and Lord Robert and excused himself, deciding to indulge in a glass of wine. He scanned the floor of dancers for the princess as he went but she was nowhere to be seen.

Wine procured from a nearby server, Hendrik parted the crowd ahead of him and returned to the royal table. The two older men were still engaged in their conversation, leaving Hendrik to his own devices. He let himself relax the smallest modicum; as reluctant as he was to take part in such festivities, he had to admit the satisfaction it gave him to see the king in spirits again and the princess returned to her rightful place. A few balls and banquets here and there were a small price to pay for the reunification of the royal house of Heliodor. Hendrik raised the glass to his lips, relishing the taste of the fine wine—

—then promptly choked when his gaze returned not to an empty space in front of him, but rather an unsettlingly familiar bodice with its equally-unsettling occupants.

“P-Princess,” he sputtered, accidentally spilling a few droplets on himself. “I—I did not see you approach.” The lady in question watched with an impish gleam in her eyes as Hendrik set down his cup and frantically searched for a handkerchief to minimize the damage.

“Here,” she said, procuring her own and reaching up to dab at his cravat. “I wouldn’t want you to ruin such magnificent ruffles.” Hendrik endured her attentions with gritted teeth, his line of sight deliberately fixed somewhere near the chandeliers.

“Hendrik,” said Princess Jade as she worked, affecting a worried tone. “I haven’t seen you dancing.”

“I...have not had the time, Your Highness,” Hendrik replied tightly. His soldier’s instincts were suddenly ringing alarm bells and lighting signal fires in his mind.

“And after the sacrifice you made not wearing your armour tonight.” She shook her head and fluffed out his cravat again. “There, best I can do.” The princess stepped back and sized Hendrik up much as an enemy combatant, searching for vulnerabilities to exploit. He was forced to admit that she had her choice at the moment; he felt as if in his shirtsleeves on a battlefield.

“Well, there’s no help for it,” she continued mercilessly. “If no one else dares pull you away from your duties, I suppose it has to be my job. Dance with me, Hendrik.” The princess’s tone brooked no opposition; she was Heliodorian steel made flesh, and he would have been overflowing with admiration at her resolve had he not been the impending casualty of it.

“Princess—please—I beg you—” Hendrik knew it was hopeless, knew he had finally been caught in that ambush earlier suspected in her chambers. Still, desperation made fools of many men, and Hendrik had felt his weaknesses keenly this evening.

To take matters from ‘poor’ to ‘catastrophic’, King Carnelian and Lord Robert had overheard and were now looking over with open amusement. The king’s voice was stern, however, as he spoke: “Disobeying a direct order from your future queen, Hendrik? I must confess, I had expected better of you.”

“Just take the lassie out for a spin, Hendrik,” Lord Robert laughed. “Heaven knows ye could stand to have a bit of fun for once.”

Hendrik took a deep breath and set his jaw. This craven behaviour was unworthy of him; did a true knight attempt such a retreat in the face of adversity? He bowed low to his princess and offered up his hand. “Your Highness. Would you do me the honour?” Let no one say that Sir Hendrik’s journey to the gallows was one of shameful cowardice.

It was almost all worth it for her smile, Hendrik decided as he led her to the floor. Almost, except for the dizziness that threatened to overtake him when he caught the scent of her perfume in the air, or the regrettably excellent angle the dance’s position afforded of her more prominent endowments, or the feel of her slight waist beneath his fingers when he drew her close.

Princess Jade’s eyes were on him as he linked his other hand with hers, and he did not know what to make of her look. He did not often know what to make of her at all these days, truth be told; but regardless, this ill-seemed the time to puzzle it out.

Hendrik took in a breath, and started to move—

A commotion erupted at the front of the hall and their heads snapped over as one. A guard ran in through the grand entrance, panting and pointing behind him. “M-m-monsters! In the main square!” he gasped out before the now-hushed crowd.

Hendrik wrenched his hands free and drew his sword in the blink of an eye. He shouted orders at the guards over the sudden panic of the partygoers: “Captain! Take His Majesty to safety! You men, secure the doors! The rest of you, with me!”

He was about to rush off with his troops when he heard a great rending of fabric behind him and whirled around. Princess Jade had torn the skirt of her dress lengthwise and had produced a pair of claws from some incomprehensible place. “Special request,” she said in response to his dumbfounded look, gesturing at her skirt. The princess slipped the claws onto her hands and jerked her chin toward the door. “Come on, Hendrik—looks like we’ve got a party to save after all.”

Sir Hendrik nodded at his princess, and together they charged into battle.

 

* * *

 

It was late—or more accurately, very early. Hendrik was sitting on the parapet of the east wing balcony, his back to the stone wall and legs sprawled out inelegantly before him. Jacket, cravat, and gloves had long since been discarded, and his shirtsleeves were rolled to the elbow. The moon had set already and he suspected dawn was not far behind.

Strange, to take the time to really _look_ at a night sky missing what had once been a focal point. All knew now, of course, the true nature of what they had called Erdwin’s Lantern, but Hendrik nonetheless felt bereft by the destruction of something so seemingly-immutable as a star. He had navigated by its light his entire life, from his first home to his last; its absence left a curious hole in him that smarted still.

Hendrik tiredly wondered if any constellation could replace such a lodestar, or if one must simply stumble on as best they were able.

“I should’ve known you’d be here.”

Hendrik started at the sound of Princess Jade’s voice from behind him. He scrambled to rise but stopped at the touch of her hand on his shoulder, gently pushing him back down. “Please, don’t bother.”

The princess came into view, hoisting herself up with ease onto the battlements beside him. Hendrik knew she must be as tired as he but she showed no sign of it. She briefly peered over the edge, reassuring herself of the platform below, before settling down with her legs bent and arms clasped around them. To his great relief, she had changed out of her ruined finery and donned her more customary garb.

“Is the king abed?” he asked her.

“Yes,” she said. “It took him a while after all the excitement, but I think he’ll sleep now.” She gave Hendrik a sly sideways look. “I hope you and your troops are prepared for a long day raiding noble estates. My father’s furious.”

Hendrik snorted, absently rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Who could have suspected that Lady Spinel would have her own private menagerie of fiends?”

“Or that she’d decide they’d been cooped up long enough since the Lantern’s fall and pick tonight to let them ‘out for some air’.” The princess smiled to herself as she spoke and he could not help but join her. The stress of the evening had settled into a kind of airy absurdity at this late hour; his men had performed to his utmost satisfaction _and_ no one had been seriously injured, after all.

“What of Lord Robert and the Luminary?” Hendrik asked after a moment. “Have they retired as yet?”

“I’m not sure. Rab was still chatting up the scullery girls while I was looking for you—exaggerating his heroics in the battle, no doubt.” Princess Jade rolled her eyes. “I warned him I’d tell every last servant about that time he lost his clothes in the Hotto bathhouse if he didn’t leave them alone. Looks like I need to make good on my promise.”

“A princess’s word is her bond,” Hendrik said gravely, and she let out a startled giggle.

“Staying up all night seems to do wonders for your sense of humour, Henny-Wenny,” the princess teased, reaching over to jab a finger into his arm. “You should try it more often.”

“Perhaps not with quite so much excitement next time, Princess,” he replied, rubbing his bicep where she had poked him.

Another mischievous glance out of the corner of her eye. “Well,” she said archly, “I’ll just have to think of another way to keep you awake, then.” Hendrik flushed; before he could even hope to recoup the composure needed for response, she had turned away, shifting to let her legs dangle over the side of the parapet.

Despite her mockery, it was good to sit with the princess in this...companionable way. Of late there had been an unaccountable tension in their interactions, but this was more akin to the times during their journey with the Luminary, sitting around the campfire at night together. The easy camaraderie and helpful support they all offered one another had at first bemused Hendrik; but later he had come to treasure it. Though he had been but a late addition to their party, it had felt natural to join in their purpose, as if a place for him had unknowingly been set aside already.

The princess was looking up at the sky, perhaps searching in the same way Hendrik had earlier. He could only imagine what the permanence of the stars might mean to one who had spent so much of her life on the road.

“Did you seek me out for a reason, Your Highness?” he asked, recalling what she had said earlier.

“No, not really,” she sighed, her mirth dissipating into the breeze. “Your maid said you hadn’t returned yet and I grew curious. I’d checked most of the castle before I remembered your old haunt here.”

Hendrik frowned down at his hands. “It has been some time since I last came up here myself. Tonight—” He hesitated. “Perhaps even one such as I can be influenced by...sentimentality,” he said finally.

“Hm,” the princess hummed absently. “Even the great Sir Hendrik has his maudlin side, eh? Don’t worry—your secret’s safe with me.”

“I will depend on you, Princess,” he replied, fist to his chest.

They sat there for a time in the hush of early morning, watching the horizon for telltale signs of lightening. Hendrik knew that his second wind could not last forever, but this was one spell he was truly loath to break.

“Hendrik?” the princess said eventually, tracing the stonework of the parapet with the edge of her fingernail.

“Yes?”

“What was that other incident you mentioned earlier—the one at a ball a few years ago?”

Hendrik was silent awhile before answering. “Merely a tale of foolish youth, Your Highness.”

“Well, now I definitely want to hear it,” she prompted, and he knew objections were futile. He could deny few things to his future queen at best, and none at all to this woman who had fought so bravely beside him tonight.

“It was well on a decade ago,” he began, “back when the creature possessing your father was still keeping up some effort at pretense. King Gustav had arrived for a state visit and a banquet was thrown in his honour.”

The knight could see the princess out of the corner of his eye, still looking down at her idle tracing but listening closely. “The evening had proceeded without incident until Lord Anatase fell somewhat too deeply into his cups and decided the time was ripe to make a public declaration—namely, that his betrothed had been carrying on a secret affair with none other than the esteemed Sir Jasper, and he demanded recompense.”

Princess Jade snorted. “Was it true?”

“At the time I would have denied it strenuously, but now…” Hendrik cleared his throat. “Regardless, he challenged Jasper to a duel in the very centre of the ballroom, though scarcely able to stand on his own two feet from drink.” The princess had turned to face him now, cross-legged on the battlements, clearly caught up in the tale.

“Jasper refused him, of course,” Hendrik continued, “but Lord Anatase was remarkably persistent, in this if little else in his dilatory life. I joined Jasper in trying to remove his lordship from the hall, but then he drew his sword on us.”

“I can’t believe no one’s told me this one before,” the princess shook her head.

“There are few left to tell it, Your Highness,” Hendrik said, staring out into the darkness. “At any rate, the threat of impending violence drew the lady in question into the confrontation, and she declared that even though she certainly had _not_ been carrying out the liaison, it now seemed a fine time to start, as there was no way she would continue a betrothal with such an...‘uncultured swine’, I believe were her words.”

Hendrik paused. “Then, she kissed Jasper in front of the entire assembly.”

Princess Jade was rapt. “Really?” she asked incredulously.

“Truly, Your Highness.” She motioned him on impatiently when he paused again. “The enraged Lord Anatase lunged for Jasper, but the lady went into hysterics during the uproar and was in imminent danger of mortal injury. Jasper pushed her aside and took the blow in her place. Only a flesh wound, but he still bore the scar years later.”

“And what about Lord Anatase?” the princess asked intently.

Hendrik coughed into his hand. “He had forgotten about my presence entirely in the confusion, and I managed to surprise him with a well-aimed fist to the nose. The fight rather went out of him after that.”

The princess’s laughter broke through the quiet night air. “Was that strictly adhering to the Knight’s Pledge, Sir Hendrik?”

“He had injured my companion and threatened the life of a lady; I saw it as no less than my duty,” Hendrik replied, offended.

“Oh, I’m only joking,” she said fondly, briefly resting her hand on his arm; he found that this touch lingered far longer than the poke from earlier. The princess pursed her lips. “I don’t recall meeting a Lord Anatase. What happened to him?”

“He moved to his family’s country estates and now raises goats, I believe. The lady visited Jasper often for a time afterward, but eventually married another lord.”

“And _this_ is the nobility my father wants to unite with the royal house of Heliodor?” the princess scoffed.

“You raise a strong point, Your Highness,” Hendrik conceded.

Her amusement faded and she turned away from him again, coiling herself up so she could clasp her legs closely once more. “He was different back then, wasn’t he?”

Hendrik frowned. “The king? As I said, this was—”

“Not him.”

A silence stretched out between them. Hendrik did not find he had the proper words at hand to formulate a reply. He stared, unblinking, at the deep blue horizon above the distant mountains. Lighter now, perhaps, than minutes before; soon the stars would fade, and with them all traces of the absence in the sky.

“I remember my last ball with him,” Princess Jade said, and the sorrow that tinged her voice was almost too much for Hendrik to bear. “He let me stand on his feet as we danced together. I felt so grown up that night.” She shifted, resting her chin on her knees. “It was a nice memory to think of, sometimes. When I needed it.”

Hendrik clutched the stone of the battlements until his knuckles whitened. “I..." He swallowed hard, throat strangely difficult to work. "I will never understand why he...”

If time had stood still, he might have been able to grasp the edges of everything he wished to say and pull it out into the light. But that was a power none could harness, the slowly-changing horizon its greatest proof.

Hendrik deliberately turned his gaze from the sky. “It matters not,” he said instead, and he meant it, as far as he was able.

It was another few heartbeats before Princess Jade spoke. “No,” she agreed. “It doesn’t, does it?” He looked at her then, and had the instant certainty that she would never be more beautiful than at this moment, the fading starlight on her somber face.

They sat together for some time after. Deep purple had paled into pink when the princess twisted around and hopped down from the parapet. The knight automatically rose to join her.

“Will you take to your bed now, Your Highness?” he asked, looking down at her.

“I think so,” she replied, covering a yawn. “You should try to get some sleep too, Hendrik.”

“I will,” he promised. “Do you require an escort?”

“Oh, yes,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “You know how many dragons there are in the castle hallways.”

“A far better argument after any _other_ night, Princess,” he pointed out.

“True. But no, I’ll be fine. Good night, Hendrik. Or—whatever.” She flipped a wave at him and started to walk toward the door. He bowed slightly after her, hand to his heart.

When he straightened he saw that she had paused and was looking at him with an impishness reminiscent of the evening before. His instincts flared despite his weariness and it was with no small amount of alarm that he watched her reapproach.

Several things happened at once: Princess Jade halted in front of him, pulled him down with a hand on his arm, lifted up onto her tiptoes, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Hendrik flushed to the roots of his hair.

“Thank you, Sir Hendrik,” she said quietly, her breath lifting goosebumps along his neck.

“For...for what, Princess?” he managed to get out.

She smiled up at him, inscrutable as ever. “For the dance, of course,” she replied. Then she pulled away and left without another look back.

Hendrik stayed on the balcony awhile longer to watch the sunrise; he counted the stars as they went out, one by one by one.

 

* * *

 

In his dreams, he felt the softness of her waist beneath his fingertips and the ghost of her lips upon his skin.

In his dreams, he did not regret a thing.


End file.
